


Fire Hands

by thenakednymph



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Once again I have no idea what the fuck this is, Rated for cursing, klance, non-binary Pidge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 01:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19861114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenakednymph/pseuds/thenakednymph
Summary: “Hey, you’ve got fire hands.”~Alt. Lance has some bullshit psychology about Keith’s hands that may not actually be nonsense.





	Fire Hands

“Hey, you’ve got fire hands.” 

Keith freezes, staring down at where he’s holding his fork and back to Lance, confused. 

Lance is embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. 

“What?” Keith blinks at him, dumbfounded. 

Lance flushes, picking at the table before puffing out his cheeks. 

“Fire hands. Narrow palm, short fingers?” 

Keith frowns, curling his fingers into a fist as if to hide them. 

“Relax Mullet there’s nothing wrong with fire hands.” Lance turns back to his dinner, sucking on his spoon for a moment. “Actually it explains a lot about you,” he says idly, more to himself than Keith. 

“Well then what are you?” 

Lance grins, holding up a hand. “Water hands. Narrow palm, long fingers.” He leans in slightly as if sharing a secret. “It’s just code for over emotional and ‘sensitive’.” He makes air quotes around sensitive as if it’s something he’s heard over and over again like it’s a bad thing, rolling his eyes. 

Keith frowns. “Is there something wrong with that?”

Lance blinks dumbly, hands sinking back to the table. “With what?”

Keith’s frown deepens, uncomfortable. “With being sensitive. It just means you care about people. How is that a bad thing?” 

Lance shrugs, picking up his spoon and spinning it idly. Keith has never bothered to take notice of Lance’s hands before but now that he has he can’t stop staring. 

Lance was right, his fingers are long, tapering off at the ends, bones thin and almost delicate. 

Lance turns to him abruptly, blatantly ignoring Keith’s question. 

“I can’t tell if the fire hands thing is fitting or ironic considering you’re the paladin of the red lion but don’t you think that’s a little on the nose? I mean. Your favorite color is red, Red is your lion, your quintessence is red, your’re the guardian of fire, and you have fire hands?” There’s a deep crease between his brows as he tucks the items off on his fingers. 

“How the hell are you a water sign?” he demands.

“How do you know I’m a water sign?” 

Lance gives him a withering look. “If you’re not a Scorpio I’m not a Leo,” he says dryly. “You’re fucking textbook.” 

Keith scowls. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lance waves away his defensive tone. “Nothing Mullet. Just that you’ve got your shields up, that’s all.”

Keith pouts, poking at his dinner but his eyes are inevitably drawn back to Lance’s hands. He’s gone back to spinning his spoon. 

“You’re staring.” Lance grins at Keith’s blush but now that he’s been caught…

“I just never noticed before. Now it’s kind of hard to stop.” He frowns at Lance’s hands, still idly moving about the table. “What’s the difference?” 

Lance holds up a hand, gesturing for Keith to do the same but he purses his lips. 

“I don’t have cooties Keith,” Lance teases, “now give me your hand.” 

Keith reluctantly holds up his hand, pressing his palm against Lance’s, adjusting as Lance spreads his fingers. 

“See? Narrow palms.” He runs the finger of his other hand down either side of their palms where they’re pressed together, no overlap. 

“Long fingers.” He taps the tip of one finger, flexing them where they extend past Keith’s. 

He pulls his hand away to take Keith’s, tracing out a oval in his palm. 

“Narrow palm.” 

“The hell are you two doing?” Pidge calls from across the table and Keith snatches his hand back. “Please tell me you’re not going on and on about that stupid hand shit again. It’s nonsense.”

Lance crosses his arms, sulking in his chair and sticks his tongue out at Pidge. 

“It’s not nonsense.” He leans into Keith’s space, holding a hand out again. “See, Pidge has air hands. Square palm, long fingers. And when they spread their fingers,” he spreads his own to demonstrate, “their pinkies come waaaay out over here. It’s weird,” he explains, loud enough for Pidge to hear. “Dainty,” he teases. 

“Bullshit,” Pidge throws back and Lance tuts.

“And yet here you are, a person of thought and ideas whose very practical, who loves structure and the physical over the things science can’t explain,” he says smugly. 

“You can’t possibly know that because of their hands,” Keith argues.

“Sure I can Mr. Fire Hands,” he says turning on Keith, physically scooting himself in his chair to do so. “You need constant stimulation. Short fingers, short temper, short thoughts. Narrow palms mean your affected by your environment and you always need to be doing something, seeking out some new accomplishment or stimulation. Always achieving.” He grins, slouching more confidently into his chair. 

“It’s what made you so damn good at the Garrison.” His smile stretches. “And so terrible. You always need to be active and the structure of the Garrison didn’t work so well with your constant need to be doing. Sitting idle is not something you handle well.

“Someone with fire hands is naturally intense, restless, and competitive.” He ticks the items off on his fingers, grinning smugly. “Sound like someone we know?” 

Shiro blinks rapidly from the end of the table. “Huh.” 

Keith shoots him a dirty look, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His fingers are curled protectively under his arms. 

“Don’t,” he growls in warning but Shiro ignores him. 

“That’s pretty spot on actually. You can deduce all that just from his hands?”

Lance shrugs. “Sometimes. But not everyone is so typical. My sister has fire hands but air fingers. Her pinkies do the weird air thing Pidge’s do. Which, okay, how come if you’re the Guardian of Earth you have air hands? Like what the hell. And why does Hunk have Earth hands?” 

“Technically it’s nature,” Pidge says starting up a whole new conversation. “And Hunk is obviously Earth but that means we don’t have a wind element.”

Keith doesn’t know if Lance does it deliberately but the conversation rapidly directs away from him. It’s so fluid and seamless Keith isn’t sure if it was an accident but as the others all join into the conversation Lance sits back in his chair, content to let them argue. Keith can’t say he minds. He’s never been self-conscious of his hands before. 

When they finish dinner they collectively take their dishes to the space equivalent of a dishwasher before leaving. 

Lance stops Keith briefly before they part ways in the hall, fingers catching on his sleeve to get his attention. 

“Hey.” He waits until their eyes meet before continuing. “There’s nothing wrong with having fire hands.” Keith thinks he understands what Lance isn’t saying. There’s nothing wrong with  _ you _ . He smiles softly, giving a shallow nod. 

“Thanks.” Lance’s grin widens and he tucks his hands into his pockets and turns down the hall, whistling as he goes. 


End file.
